Belonging
by constellation way
Summary: She belongs to the sea; he belongs to the stars. That doesn't mean they can't belong together.


**Recently re-discovered Treasure Planet! Oh, man, I love that movie. **

**So, here is, I dunno, an attempt to get that movie off my mind. Or something. Haha. **

**Enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated! Comments would be great because, you know, in the delete-without-warning list since it's written on the spur of the moment haha. Let me know what you think!**

**Yeah okay hope you like it haha**

* * *

It's her eyes that get to him, the first time he sees her.

He's on a field trip down on Earth, one of the most outdated, backwards planets that he's ever even heard of, but it's not a bad field trip, all the same. Sure, Morph's not with him, and he can't use any kind of solar equipment or any kind of technology at all, but it's pretty cool, sailing on endless oceans and a world of mystery in a deep blue sea instead of soaring through the skies.

King Eric's a pretty cool guy to work under. He seems to forget that he's royalty, sometimes, and he mingles with the rest of the sailors and the crew like he's one of them, not like he's a King or anything of the sort. Jim's heard that Queen Ariel's pretty much like that too; he's seen her a couple of times, red-headed and blue-eyed with a smile a mile wide, and she seems just at ease in a peasant dress walking through the town as she is in a fancy ballgown with pearls in her hair.

Jim thinks it's pretty cool.

He's been on Earth for a couple of weeks (the field trip's three months long – killer, but he's been on longer trips) when Eric asks him if he's interested in coming over to the palace with the rest of the crew for a party that night.

"A party?" Jim echoes, and he watches as Eric smiles that easy smile of his, the smile that doesn't see any difference between a rich lady and a commoner.

"My daughter Melody's coming back from a visit to Corona," explains Eric. "She left a few weeks before you came. The crew's all going, they're practically family to her. I think you'd like to meet her."

"I don't know if I have anything to wear," Jim says, feebly; he thinks he _might _have some clothes, but he doesn't know if they have the Interstellar Academy logo on them. No one here knows who he really is, apart from his mentor Al, and he's not about to take the risk of someone finding out.

"I'll lend you some, if you can't find any," Eric offers. "I still have some old clothes from long ago, Ariel makes sure they're in good condition. C'mon, Jim, it'll be fun!"

"Yeah, go on, lad," says old Al, leaning against the railings next to them.

So Jim agrees, and he dredges up a white jacket and a clean change of clothes that don't look half bad. He's prodded into the palace with the rest of the crew, and he has to admit he's impressed, but he's uncomfortable with all the strange looks thrown his way.

Maybe he should've taken off the earring.

There are a ridiculous amount of people his age, and he finds out from Al that it's because Melody, the princess, is sixteen, just two years younger than him, and there are lots of potential suitors here waiting to ask for her hand in marriage.

"At sixteen?" Jim only snorts.

"Careful, lad," says Al, but he's smiling, grinning: "Queen Ariel got married at sixteen, you know. Now there's a story to tell."

"What's the story, then?" Jim wants to know.

Al only smiles, shakes his head: "Maybe some other time."

Jim wants to prod him for more, but then an old, skinny guy announces the arrival of Princess Melody, and he turns and watches as a girl slides out of the shadows.

* * *

She hates this. The being dragged into the centre of attention, all eyes fixed on her, all waiting for her to trip up and make a mistake.

The getting-ready part isn't so bad nowadays. She's ditched the pink, fluffy dresses for gowns in shades of blue and green, in colours of the sea, and sometimes she wishes she could just slink back into the ocean and dive down beneath the waves.

But she's got duties and responsibilities and a life to live on land, so she forces a smile and she steps out when Grimsby calls her name and makes her way down the stairs, carefully, elegantly, gracefully.

She's not her mother Ariel, who loves being in the centre of everything, who's so easily lovable and who seems to know how to do just about everything, perfect and put together. She's not her father Eric, either, charming and easy with people and good with words.

No, she's her. She's Melody.

Sometimes she wishes she were a bit more like her parents. Life would be a lot easier.

Although Sebastian does say that she is, ridiculously, far too much like her mother was at sixteen.

She makes it down to the bottom of the stairs without incident, and she sweeps a curtsey, and then she raises her head and glances around, just like how she always does.

It's his eyes that catch her attention.

They remind her of the sea on a cloudy, overcast day, even from where he's standing by the window, near a familiar face with a white beard and crooked grin. He stands out from the rest of the well-bred families and sons that fill up the ballroom, stands out from even her father's crew, with a face just a few years older than her, golden earring glinting, messy brown hair in a ponytail, almost slouched against the wall.

"How're you doin', princess?" Al wants to know when he sees her make her way over, sidestepping the suitors like how she's used to, evading them without seeming to.

"Oh, I'm all right," she says. "Corona was beautiful, but nothing can compare to home."

"Or the sea out in front of you, am I right?" Al says, and Melody has to hide a guilty smile, because of course Al knows, just like how the whole castle knows, that this palace isn't what she's really missed; what she's missed is the ocean, the boats, the feel of the wind in her hair and her heart pounding in her chest. "Where are my manners? Princess, this is Jim Hawkins, new to the crew. Jim, this here's Princess Melody."

He gives a short, awkward bow, gold earring glinting, and he smiles, crookedly: "Hey."

She smiles back, widely: "Hi."

* * *

"Why aren't you inside?"

Melody raises her head from her hands, turns around to see Jim Hawkins leaning against the door frame of the balcony, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, gold earring shining.

"Why aren't you?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Parties aren't really my thing." He steps forward, leaning his arms against the railing, but he's careful to keep a distance from her: "Isn't this supposed to be your party, though?"

"Parties are more of my mother's thing," Melody admits. "I'm no good at them. Not really."

"You seem like a pretty popular person inside there."

"Yeah, well, I highly doubt any of them would remember my name if I weren't the Princess," she says. "I mean, I can socialise. I just don't really like to."

"You'll have to do it someday, though," he says.

Melody shrugs, and Jim thinks about how a very un-princess-like action that is. "I guess you're right. But I'd rather limit the time I have to spend with people I don't really care for and who don't care for me."

She smiles at him then, her face turning to look at him, and he thinks of how her eyes are blue like the sea but somehow remind him of glittering night skies, soaring amongst the stars – endless, open, a journey that could end in a thousand different ways.

He watches as she turns her head to stare back out at the sea, at the sky, and something twists in his chest.

"Your family really likes the sea," he says.

There's a strange laugh that bubbles out of her: "You're new to this place, aren't you?"

It's amused, entertained; but it's not snobbish, and he finds himself relaxing more, resting his head on his hand.

He grins, almost sheepishly: "That obvious?"

"Very," she says. "My mother's got an – unique connection to the sea."

"Yeah?"

"If I told you the story, you wouldn't believe me," she says.

"Maybe."

He thinks of a ship called the RLS Legacy, and he thinks of a little pink blob called Morph, of solar surfers and the Benbow Inn and an old scallywag, and he smiles.

* * *

"You dance?"

Melody sends him a curious look: "Of course."

Jim shifts his weight, clears his throat: "Do you want to?"

Melody blinks in surprise; he looks awkward, sheepish almost, huddled in the darkness in his white jacket and his golden earring and his shaggy brown hair; and she feels a flush rise up in her cheeks, because this is _stupid _she's been asked to dance so many times before and why is she only feeling the heat rush up to her face now?

"Sure," she says, and she watches as his face breaks into a relieved smile, and he takes her hand and leads her back inside. She figures that he isn't very good with people, because he seems awkward, uncertain, almost, as he places a hand on her waist and lifts up her hand.

"You don't dance very often, do you?" she says, smiling.

He grins sheepishly: "We didn't have a lot of dances back at the Academy. I mean, I know how, but – the atmosphere's pretty different, too."

"It's not that bad," she says, encouragingly.

He grins down at her: "Maybe."

* * *

She's not so bad, Princess Melody.

To be honest, Jim's not really sure what he was expecting. With parents like Eric and Ariel, there should be no way she could be a spoilt rich brat, but then again, it _was _possible.

Melody's not like that at all.

He's spent most of the evening with her – after the one and only dance they shared, after which they both collapsed laughing, she went off to dance with some of her suitors; but after two or three dances, she appeared next to him again, telling him that it's really too exhausting to dance with people who don't even know who she is.

"I don't really know you, either," Jim pointed out.

Melody shrugged: "Maybe, but you don't seem like you judge, you know? You just seem like you accept people for who they are. Not for who their titles, or whatever." She looked faintly embarrassed: "You just seem easier to be around."

"That's a first."

He smiles now, faintly.

He watches as she gives a last curtsey goodnight to the ballroom, watches as she backs out, slowly, elegantly, disappearing, her dark hair flying behind her as she makes her way up the stairs.

"Quite the beauty, isn't she?" says Al, when he sees Jim standing by one of the pillars, his eyes still fixed on the doorway that Melody's just disappeared through.

Jim shrugs: "Guesso."

Al only smiles and shakes his head.

* * *

"I saw you dancing with Jim," says Eric, leaning against the balcony railing in his daughter's room as Ariel brushes through Melody's hair.

He doesn't see the pink flush that creeps up on her face, but Ariel does, as Melody says: "He's nice."

"He's really good on a ship," says Eric. "Reckless, though – he scurries all over the place! Really restless too. He can never stay still for long. Always running up and down, exploring, finding out whatever he can, building stuff – "

"Where's he from?" Melody wants to know.

Eric frowns: "Pretty far off, I think. I'm not really sure myself. He's a friend of Al's."

"He's nice," Melody repeats.

Ariel exchanges a glance with her husband.

* * *

"I thought, as princess, you'd be surrounded by guards."

He's been hoping to scare her, but Melody only sends him an amused smile as she glances over her shoulder, as she balances along the top of a low wall just outside the town, the beach shimmering sand on the other side, the blue, blue sea stretched before it.

"I sneak out a lot," she admits. "I mean, I know that it can get dangerous, but I can take care of myself."

Jim raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

She sends him a guilty smile. "Well, not so much. But there's always someone watching."

She thinks of Sebastian, who is scuttling along the wall next to her, hidden in the shadow as he makes his way through the gleaming sand. He's sending her a glare now, a suspicious glare that reveals just what he thinks of the boy striding alongside next to her, most of which he's said last night ("Are you crazy, child? He's clearly a bad influence for you").

Jim chuckles, keeps up with her effortlessly as she balances without any trouble, her gaze flickering over to the sea every so often.

"You really like the ocean, don't you?"

"Don't you?" she wants to know. "Look at it! It's amazing, beautiful – can you think of all the wonderful things and treasures? All the mystery and adventure, all the wonderful things – "

She sighs.

"Never really thought about it," Jim admits. "I always thought it was just full of fish and seaweed."

She sends him a disbelieving look.

"I've always liked the stars better," he confesses. "Just think of the galaxy, the stars around you, planets to discover and explore – "

He breaks off, shrugs his shoulders, still grinning.

"I always thought it was kind of empty," says Melody, and laughs when she catches sight of Jim's almost horrified look – "Guess we've got a lot to learn, huh?"

She smiles at him, then, beams at him so brightly, so contagiously, that he can't help but smile back.

"Guesso."

* * *

"Are you building something?" she wants to know.

They're sitting on the wall, facing the sea, and she's aware of Sebastian prodding at her ankles and hissing at her, but she's sixteen, after all. She knows how to take care of herself. She's not a child anymore.

"Well, no. Not exactly." He holds up some kind of compass, a kind that Melody's never seen before. "This was a present from one of my friends, before I came here. But it doesn't work so well."

"What, is it meant for the stars?" she jokes, grinning.

He looks shocked, for a moment, almost as if he's been caught guilty; but then he breaks out into a smile, grinning back at her.

"Maybe," he says.

* * *

"Maybe we could. Uh. Do this again."

Melody raises her eyes to meet his, and Jim is looking away, almost fiercely, staring out at the sea, at the ships in the harbour, and she has to fight the thumping in her chest: "Do this?"

"Yeah. You know." He shrugs, awkwardly: "This whole – I dunno. Walking around. Talking. Whatever you want. Maybe you could show me the town. Or tell me stories about this place. About the sea. I dunno."

He shrugs, again, still looking away determinedly –

And Melody can't fight the slight flush that's creeping up on her cheeks.

"Sure," she says. "Sure, yeah, I mean – " She clears her throat: "That'd be – that'd be great. Really – yeah."

She nods, ignores the horrified glare that Sebastian is sending her way.

Jim relaxes almost immediately, turning his head so that his eyes meet hers, before he lowers them again.

"Cool."

* * *

**so...any comments? haha**


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